


Three blind mice

by Colonel_Moriarty



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-07
Updated: 2012-07-07
Packaged: 2017-11-09 08:51:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/453637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Colonel_Moriarty/pseuds/Colonel_Moriarty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim has to deal with somebody stepping into his territory and attacking Sebastian. </p>
<p>A bit dark at times.</p>
<p>One of my older MorMor ficlets. Please enjoy reading it. Feedback would be lovely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three blind mice

Colonel Sebastian Moran is a careful man. And he has to be in his line of work. He’s killed too many to not be aware of how easily he could get killed himself. So when he’s around with his men-

(actually they’re Jims men but Seb is giving them the orders, -Jims- orders, training them, telling them when to move, where to stop and when to shoot),

-he always makes sure to check all possible entrances and exists. Sits with his back to the wall. Never drinks more than he can handle.

He doesn’t see himself as a wanted man, though he knows he is. Because Jim is. Jim has many enemies. And Sebastian Moran is his right hand man. His bodyguard. His silent shadow and loyal sniper. Jim just has to say one word and Sebastian will go out and shoot somebody for him. Or extract some information from a poor soul.

That’s why Sebastian is careful.

But even then they managed to catch him off guard. Maybe it was because Jim had woken him at 2 am, his voice cooing into his ear, whispering to him.

‘Go, and find this guy for me, Sebby. And tell him I said ‘hi’. You’ll do that for me wont you, Sebby?’

And Sebastian had gotten up, grabbed his rifle case and jacket and had left. Jim had sent him the orders through his cell phone but even then Seb had had to wait for hours before the target showed up.

Afterwards Jim had texted him to let him know he expected him to drop by at their favorite coffee shop and buy him a caramel coffee and a donut.

‘Thank you, Sebby darling.’

And Sebastian obeyed again, without asking any questions, without any complaint, because it was Jim who had asked and nobody says ‘no’ to Jim. Not even when you’re tired and grouchy because the weather was freezing cold when he was waiting in the darkness

Waiting for his target and for that perfect shot.

Most likely those were the reasons that Sebastian Moran didn’t see it coming.

When he got back to his parked car, a paper bag in his hand, containing Jims coffee and donut, he found himself staring at a scratch in the driver’s door. Jim would be upset if he saw it so he’d have to get it fixed. Strange that he had not noticed it before.

Shrugging his shoulders he unlocked the door, pulling it open. He was about to slip in when he noticed something else that struck him as odd.

Jim loved sticking post-its to the dashboard or other parts in the front of the car. Little reminder, teasing notes or just a riddle he’d expect Seb to solve. Moran didn’t mind them as long as they didn’t clutter up the car too much. This time there had been just one note, he remembered that much clearly. But it was gone. Then his eyes suddenly wandered to the ground where he was still standing, seeing the post it laying on the concrete, the message no longer recognizable from the footprints left on it. Moran knew he had not touched it. Because Jim would always made sure to collect them again.

(Jim loved to collect things. Body parts, photos of people he had shot, post-it notes, articles about Sherlock Holmes.)

And the place this one had been attached to could have only been reached if somebody had searched for something under his seat.

Or had placed something there.

Sebastian Moran didn’t waste another second as he leapt away from the car, trying to get as much distance between himself and the vehicle as he possibly could. He knew they were watching him, waiting for him to sit in his car so they could set off the bomb they had placed inside. But he had done the unexpected and now they would have to react fast so their plan would still work out.

The thought, that they went quite some lengths to get their message across to Jim Moriarty, ran through Sebastian’s mind.

Because he was their true target. Not the sniper. But they had to get through Seb to reach Jim. And they wanted to show the criminal mastermind that they too could follow his every move, place a bomb in his car in broad daylight. At least that –would- have been the message. But Sebastian Moran never got into the car.

Moran could almost feel their panic, almost hear one of them shout to the other to detonate the bomb RIGHT NOW. He could almost see the trembling finger that pushed down on the button. Inside he was laughing at their poorly executed job, even when the force of the explosion pulled him off his feet, tearing at his clothes, the heat burning the skin off his back; flying shrapnel’s cutting into his flesh.

‘Such a sloppy job.’ was all he could think of while he was still grinning inside, as he hit the ground with the full weight of his tall, broad body, for a moment feeling a sharp white pain stab through his mind. Grunting he forced himself to move, to get back up.

Then the first bullet hit him.

Obviously there had to be three of them. The one that had built and installed the bomb. The one with the sniper rifle. And lastly the one giving orders.

‘Amateurs.’ he thought, and then, as if it wasn’t him laying there, bleeding, getting fucked up by sniper shots, he continued his train of thought, ‘Shoulder, hip, arm, a grazing shot, right lung.’

Five bullets. And none of it had really done its job. He was still alive. But he felt his breathing grow painful and ragged as blood filled his lung. ‘Worst sniper ever’. Sebastian Moran felt consciousness slip from his body and he knew he was going to die. He only regretted that it was from such a messy job done by a bunch of monkeys. Jim would be very upset and he would not get his coffee.

——————————————————————————————————

Jim was very upset this morning. Not only had he found out that his favorite suit was still gone for dry cleaning, the TV was also only showing reruns and Seb had not arrived with his order yet.

Clearly somebody was trying to make his day miserable. He would have to think about a proper punishment for Sebby when he finally showed up. That thought made Jim –almost- smile.

In this moment his phone rang. Agitated he picked it up, growling a sharp ‘yes?’ into it.

“Sir? I’m sorry to disturb you but I have to inform you that Colonel Moran is in hospital. He has been shot and…”

Jim didn’t listen to the rest of the faceless henchman’s words, simply hanging up. Now he wasn’t just upset, he was furious. How could somebody –dare- calling him with such a ridiculous message? Nobody was allowed to shoot Sebastian. Besides him. And he was certain he had not shot him- yet. Jim Moriarty started to pace around, a deep frown on his face. Sebastian should better show up quickly and explain everything to him.

Instead of Sebastian stepping through the door the phone rang again. For a moment Jim considered stomping on it but decided against it.

“Ah…I’m sorry, sir… I think we lost connection. Colonel Moran is in hospital. He has been shot and his condition is critical. The doctors were able to remove the bullets but are saying that he might not survive the night. Maybe-“

Again the man was interrupted but this time Jim didn’t hang up on him.

“And why should –I- care about that?” he snarled, voice getting that irritated sound that was more than just a warning. “Don’t bother me with this drivel! I got work to do.”

The man on the other end swallowed.

“Yes sir. I understand, sir.”

And then the line was silent again. Jim huffed, tossing the phone aside, plopping down on the couch. Then he tugged his feet up, sitting in a yoga fashion, closing his eyes. Such utter nonsense. Critical condition! Hah! And what was this absurd talk about Sebastian not surviving the night? Seb wouldn’t dare to die. He didn’t allow him to die. Especially not today!

Jim glared at the door as if he expected the sniper to walk in any moment after all. But Sebastian did not show up. The nerve this man had. Maybe Jim had to remind him who he was working for?

At two Jim was having some late breakfast, trying to work on his laptop. But for some reason he could not concentrate well enough. Of course that was Seb’s fault. He glanced over to the clock, then checked his own watch before staring at the door again. Then he returned his attention to the computer screen.

At five he was sitting in one of their cars, driving to the hospital. He had at least to see Sebastian. And tell him how angry he was.

The doctor approached him, speaking in this low, dull tone of voice that obviously was supposed to convey sympathy. Instead it just added to Jim’s aggravation. He was lead into room at the far end of the hallway. A single bed was standing in it, the blinds halfway down, bright, dead hospital lights illuminating the scene.

There was a man lying in bed. Jim couldn’t tell who it was at first, stepping closer after having sent the doctor away. No, this was not his Seb. This was some stranger who was wrapped in bandages and surrounded with too much machinery as if this was some science fiction movie. The breathing tube covering his mouth also didn’t make it easier to recognize the man in the bed. Besides that he was also impossibly pale, almost bordering in color to a grayish tone.

Jim’s eyes wandered over that unknown face to the bandaged chest and then his attention was diverted by the heart rate monitor. The sound was soothing and calming Jim down, putting him into a more collected state of mind. He picked the paper from the foot end to the bed, reading what name was displayed on it.

Frowning he read it and read it again. After the fifth time he gave up. The truth was and always had been that the man in the bed –was- Colonel Sebastian Moran. His Sebby. And he had allowed somebody else to fuck him up.

Jim felt the strong urge to punch Sebastian but he didn’t follow the desire through. Mostly because Seb wouldn’t even feel it. And that would ruin his fun completely. He had to wait for him to wake up again, wait for him to say ‘hi’ and –then- he would punch him. Not in the face. Maybe in the stomach.

The criminal mastermind found himself standing there, waiting. But Seb didn’t wake up. Instead after an hour the doctor stepped back in. “I’m sorry sir but you should leave now,” he started, but stopped when he saw that look in Jims eyes. It was the sort of expression that would be followed by the only possible outcome- death. Unless the person that was bugging Jim in this moment would shut up or eat their words and make up to him. “I…I meant… I’m sorry, sir but… Of course you can stay.”

Jim ignored the obvious distress and discomfort he was causing in the other man. This was so dull. Having to talk to those imbeciles. Even with a degree in medicine and years of studying Jim considered the man as a species of lower intelligence.

“When will he wake up again?” he demanded to know then.

The doctor flinched, nervously cleaning his glasses.

“We’re not certain if he will, sir. This night is very critical and…After the surgery he slipped into a coma. We can’t say if or when he’ll wake up from it again. That is if the fever doesn’t weaken him too much.”

Jim’s eyes narrowed even further and that look of displeasure turned into one of utter disgust. Obviously this man was dense beyond all believes.

“Either he wakes up or somebody will have to carry the consequences.” he snarled, causing the man in the white coat to start to tremble.

“Sir… I assure you we’re doing all we can to…”

“You better do even more. I’ll go home now. You report to me if anything about his current state changes.”

He turned abruptly on his heels and headed for the door. The doctor only managed to nod, throat feeling tight from the fear settling in.

An hour later, Jim found himself sitting in a chair, a blanket around his shoulders, feet pulled up, hugging his legs. He was sipping a coffee which tasted absolutely horrible. It was no surprise though since hospitals only carried the cheap brand. Other than that he was watching Sebastian Moran. Watched his chest raise and fall with the help of the machine. Listened to the strangely melodious rhythmically beating of Moran’s heart. And he wondered why he was still here instead of laying in his bed in their flat.

He had tried to return to it. Several times actually. But something was so very off, so very wrong. And it was a strange deafening silence that had clouded his senses and made it hard for him to think. To work. To breath.

‘Damn you Seb. How could you be so –selfish- and let yourself get shot?’

At least he had managed to bring his laptop along. Sipping from his plastic cup he started to type, feeling a bit less nauseated, a bit less…

No, no, that was really silly. Scandalously silly even. He didn’t –need- Sebastian Moran. He was…convenient. Useful. Loyal. And if anything Sebastian Moran needed him!

————————————————————————————————-

Right now however Sebastian Moran didn’t need anything or anybody.

Sebastian Moran was dreaming.

He was in the Afghanistan. Somewhere in the vast mountain area that stretched out until the horizon. But he was not Colonel Moran the soldier; he was Sebastian Moran the tiger.

And the mountains were his territory.

He felt something around his neck. A leather collar. Black. Thick. Heavy. Just tight fitting enough to remind him that he was wearing it. Attached to it was a long iron chain. The heavy looking rings didn’t seem to weight anything though, not slowing him down. It also was a long chain. It gave him all the freedom he needed but at times he felt the urge to tug at it to see if the one holding it would react.

He didn’t see the pit. It was hidden under leaves and branches. The ground two meters down was covered with wooden stakes, the carved tips welcoming him, sinking into his body as he fell.

‘Shoulder, hip, arm, a grazing shot, right lung.’

The pain carved deep into his mind, filling every fiber of his body. He felt his proud striped body struggle helplessly around. He felt his movements grow weaker with the loss of blood. In a strange way it was a very pretty sight as it ran down the wood before seeping into the ground below.

And then -he- was suddenly next to him. A small shadow, only a pair of glowing eyes and sharp shark like teeth visible in the mass of black. Sebastian knew who it was. It was the devil who owned him. The devil who wore Westwood. The devil that held the other side of the leash. Who owned every piece of his body, mind and soul.

And the devil drew closer, sing song voice filling Sebastian’s mind.

“Don’t die, my darling tiger. You’re stronger than that. Don’t you dare to die on me. Do you hear me?”

And then much softer but just as intense:

“You know you can’t get away from me, Sebby. I own you. You’re mine. Always. So come back to me. Wake up. Can’t you hear me? Wake up!”

———————————————————————————————————-

Jim sighed and pulled away from the bedside. Nothing had changed. Sebastian Moran had survived the night but he still was in a deep coma. If this had been a Fairy Tale, Seb would have been Sleeping Beauty, without a doubt. Which would mean the prince Charming that was needed to…

Moriarty shook his head. His mind was going through the oddest things today. He checked the calendar on his laptop. Friday. Four days had passed since the incident. And with every passing day the doctor had sounded less enthusiastic and more and more scared about the outcome.

But then something changed. Jim was busy working on some project when he heard a strange sound. It was the sound as if somebody was choking and it was really unnerving.

“Seb, stop making such disgusting noises!”

A few minutes later the doctor and two nurses were standing with Jim at Moran’s bed, helping to remove the breathing tube that was causing him discomfort. The snipers eyes were half lidded as he tried to take in the scene around him. The first person he noticed though was Jim and he tried to call out for him but his throat was dry and aching, his tongue swollen and he could only croak a bit. So he tried to sit up to prove that he was okay and that he was sorry that he never got Jim his coffee and donut.

But somebody had turned his body into a collection of noodle like appendages that didn’t want to move at all and his mind was complete mush. He barely could coordinate himself enough to lift his hand but everything felt so strained and heavy. Sinking back into the pillows he let the doctor check his pulse and eyes and prod and poke him. He could have shot them all but right now he couldn’t even speak and even less move.

He saw Jim turn away from his bed and walk back to his chair and vanish behind his laptop. Sebastian felt his heart sink as he realized just how much he had let his employer down. If it was not so serious it would have been almost laughable. He, the sniper, having been shot by another sniper.

Of course he would have preferred if Jim had ranted at him. Even called him names. But instead he found himself being ignored and yet watched and it was a punishment worse than everything else he had gone through in his past life. From all people he had ever encountered there had just been one he knew he always wanted to please.

The next two days passed like this. Jim was watching him. Or working. Or he was eating some cheap take away and watching him. Or working again. And Sebastian tried to become Sebastian again but the painkillers made it hard for him to think clearly. His voice had returned by now but there was nothing he could have said. And Sebastian Moran was not one for making empty excuses. Jim wouldn’t have wanted him to apologize.

Jim didn’t look good, Sebastian realized. He looked even paler, even more fragile. The dark shadows under his eyes made him look downright sick. Jim should go home and sleep. Was he ever sleeping? All he seemed to be doing was to work on his laptop. At least he was not bored…

———————————————————————————————

The next morning Jim was gone. Sebastian saw that the laptop was still on the small table so he guessed his boss went for a walk. Or a shower. Or was getting himself some food. But when he did not return after lunch time either Moran started to get worried. Maybe something had happened to him? Or maybe…he had decided to leave him here. Seb was not useful to him like this. He needed to find a replacement.

A cold hand gripped for Sebastian’s heart and he forced himself to sit up, reaching up to pluck those pesky ECG electrodes from his body. An alarm went off as the line on the monitor went flat.

‘Bang! I’m dead!’ Sebastian thought as he reached for the IV needle that was stuck in his arm. The door opened and the two nurses, followed by the doctor came frantically running just to see that their patient was still alive and about to escape his hospital bed.

“Please, sir, you have to…”

They tried to push him down, restrain him. Sebastian was fighting back with all the strength he could gather.

“Would you please unhand my sniper –now-?” a voice suddenly caught everybody’s attention and both doctor and nurses hastily stepped away, looking at Jim who had just staggered into the room. He seemed a bit annoyed but overall in a cheerful mood guessing by the gleeful smile on his face. He made a short gesture, the hospital staff hastily leaving the room.

“Sebby what are you doing?” he asked softly as if he was talking to a dumb kid, “you have to stay in bed.”

“Jim…I…” Sebastian started then stopped when he realized that Jims suit and the white shirt underneath were splattered with blood. Some of it was also on his cheek, staining the white skin.

“J-Jesus Jim! Are you hurt? Damn it, who did this to you?”

Moran’s movements grew frantic but he felt Jims hand push against his chest and the sniper felt himself overwhelmed, still too weak to resist.

“I’ll make them pay! I fucking make them…”

Two blood stained fingers were placed on his lips.

“Shush… You’re talking to much Sebby. Here! I brought you a present.”

Sebastian stared at Jim. Jim with this crazy yet well known look in his eyes and that smile of a true madman. And then he felt something being placed on his lap.

It was a small box. Like one you’d use to wrap in expensive chocolates or jewelry. Sebastian touched it and felt wetness on the underside of it. Pulling his hand away he noticed that his fingertips were covered with a wet crimson now.

“Don’t you want to open it, Sebby?” Jim cooed, leaning against his side. It was a bit uncomfortable but right now it was the best feeling in the world.

Moran nodded and slowly opened the top of the box. Inside, on a bed of formerly white but now blood drenched cotton laid three pair of eyes. Surgically removed with precision from its former owners.

Jim giggled, his entire body shaking from it, the sound making Sebastian’s heart flutter.

“They’ll never shoot at you again.” whispered the devil into Moran’s ear.

Sebastian felt his lips twitch, spread into a wide grin. And then before he even realized what he was doing he started humming a song that had popped into his mind out of nowhere.

Jim looked up to him, curiously.

“What song is that?”

Sebastian’s grin grew even wider before he replied.

“Three blind mice.”


End file.
